


You Alright?

by wbtrsh



Category: Free!
Genre: Iwatobi, M/M, Swimming Anime - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-26 23:29:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1706513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wbtrsh/pseuds/wbtrsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Makoto invites his friend over to help bake cookies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Alright?

Makoto hummed quietly, dashing around the kitchen. Baking wasn’t his strong suit, but he was determined to make these cookies for the team without burning them, despite the fact he’d already ruined two batches. Surely he’d get it this time around!

Just upon putting them in the oven, there was a knock on the door. Makoto knew who it was of course, as he’d invited the boy over earlier (or more accurately had to invite him, as his parents were out that day and someone had to be there in case a fire started.) Answering the door with his usual cheery greeting of “Hello, Haru-chan!!” he was quickly pushed aside without any answer. Makoto yelped and stared at his friend who was silently making his way to the kitchen. Mind drawing a blank as to why he would act this way, he hastily followed Haru, hoping the somewhat rude entrance would be explained.

 

“U-uh, is there something wrong Haru-cha--”

“Makoto, you’re baking something.”

Makoto stared, mouth slightly agape as a result of being interrupted with this obvious statement. Yes, he was indeed baking something. He had told Haru over the phone that he’d be baking cookies. That was the reason he had invited Haru over, to help with the cookies. There was still a box of cookie mix on the counter, and the smell of burnt confectionary lingering in the air to further support the fact. Closing his mouth but maintaining his confused expression, Makoto tried once again to inquire what made his friend nearly knock him over at the door.

“Y-yes, I’m baking cookies, like I told you over the phone, ah. Are you...alright, Haru--”

“Hey Makoto, what if I broke this?”

His eyes were fixated on the plate in his hands. Eyes widening, Makoto glanced up at the opened cupboard behind his usually docile friend. A series of unfinished words tumbled out of his mouth as his mind raced, desperately searching for an answer to the question of when and how Haru opened to cupboard and gotten the plate without him noticing at all, and the more important question of why he was asking what he was currently asking. Still, Makoto could find no possible reason, nor the words he needed to reply.

Haru’s intense gaze on the plate didn’t falter, even as he dropped it to the floor. Makoto’s thought process stopped completely upon sound of the crash, looking blankly at Haru, the shattered glass on the floor, and back to Haru.

Something was happening and he didn’t like it.

Disliking even more the thought of what his parents would say when they got back but not possessing the courage to put a stop to it, Makoto watched as Haru rifled through the drawers and cabinets, breaking what he could and throwing across the kitchen what he couldn’t without so much as a pause. All with the same neutral expression he always wore. This went on for what seemed like an hour, but was probably only about eleven or twelve minutes, broken glass and porcelain littering the floor, eating utensils strewn across the counters, leftover cookie batter smeared on the walls, and now a few bitter tears splashing on the tile, courtesy of Makoto.

Shortly after the contents of the fridge had been destroyed along with Makoto’s sense of reality, Haru came to a stop and glanced to each opened drawer and cabinet, scanning for anything he’d missed. After silently confirming to himself that his work was officially done here, the raven-haired teen turned to his shell of a friend, and mumbled a short sentence of apparent explanation before crunching over broken silverware and shuffling out the door.

“Please drop the ‘chan.’” 

Makoto stared ahead, barely registering what Haru had said, barely registering that Haru had left, and barely registering his own pulse. What he did vaguely register however, was the slight scent of something starting to burn.

Looks like Haru-chan hadn’t done such a thorough job after all.


End file.
